


and death is no parenthesis

by llien



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Violence, Fanart, Fear of Death, Gen, Kingdom Hearts III Spoilers, M/M, Mickey Donald and Goofy are Mentioned but I can't write angst with them I really cant, Panic Attacks, Rage, Rated For Violence, Surreal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-04-12 10:09:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19129891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/llien/pseuds/llien
Summary: Sora curiously pulled aside the veil of death, and peeked in.Or, the one where rage festers in the soul like miasmic poison, and a clumsily made heart’s bond has its own consequences.





	and death is no parenthesis

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the theory that rage form is partially Vanitas in nature, with the idea that Vanitas exists in Sora's heart as part of Sora's own darkness. 
> 
> Please heed the tags, and mind the vivid depictions of panic.

The Caribbean breeze rolling off the sea was rich with the tangy spray of blood and sweat.

Sora had dueled against swords before, but when men turned halfway into skeletal zombies in the moonlight, it was much less daunting.

The creaking ship undulated underfoot with the waves as he sidestepped a swing, thrust, parried, and backed off, panting. If it wasn’t the heartless or nobodies, then it was the renegade pirates seeking to claim his ship. In the distance he could hear Donald and Goofy both fending for themselves, and he thought he’d seen Jack clamber onto the enemy ship a while back, but the hoards kept coming.

_ How many are  _ in  _ there,  _ he thought in disbelief, using the side of his keyblade to hit his attacker’s nape with a resounding thud. He knew it hurt, knew it was effective, and knew it was the only way to deal with his human enemies. Heartless he could slash, nobodies he could whisk away, and unversed he could squeeze out of existence, but humans? Humans were trickier.

Donald’s squawking voice called on more water, supplementing it from the ocean and sending a wave across the desk that sent several pirates skittering off the edge. Sora winced. He hoped they wouldn’t be caught between the two ships.

Another attacker, another parry, another acrobatic flip that meant he landed too hard on his ankles when the ship deck swelled up on a wave. He winced, ducked, and spun to throw his weight into the hit that landed clean across his opponent’s ribs. His breathing was getting heavy now and sweat was dripping into his eyes with the noon-sun. The salt breeze was refreshing, but continuous battle was hard to endure, especially when the enemies were harder to take down.

_ What was Jack  _ doing?

A resounding cheer rallied his enemies as one of them found a crate of treasure Sora had  _ just  _ unearthed, and he scowled. That was  _ his  _ dammit! He’d found it sunken in the depths fair and square!

He finally fended off the pirate hellbent on him and with a few steps midair flipped over to land in the center of those trying to take his hard-earned treasure.

“Back off!” Sora said, switching blades to Happy Gear so the various bolts and whistles would further deter anyone. He swung the blade like a bat into the stomach of the one trying to claim his treasure, shoving him off. The pirates encircled him, laughing with rank breath and glinting hints of jewelry.

Somewhere, he thought he heard a muted  _ tch. _

Sora only realized his mistake when various drawn swords and daggers caught the sunlight, and he hesitated, glancing behind him to find no escape. He could boost himself and fly away, but it meant sacrificing his treasure. A quick glance told him Donald and Goofy were still occupied. Gritting his teeth, Sora readied himself.

“Come on!” He taunted, and despite being surrounded, drenched in sweat and seawater and his boots sliding on blood and water mixed, he still felt exhilarated. It was in every deep pull of his lungs, in the burning in his eyes and the hair clinging to his nape with sweat, in how his heart thrummed with vibrant energy, because  _ this  _ was his dream come true, this was the greatest of adventures and Sora had been taught to enjoy life even under adversity. “Come and get me!”

He recognized, distantly, that this wasn’t normal, but life had ceased being normal for too long for Sora to be caught up in trivialities and expectations. His destiny had turned upside down and lost any idea of what gravity was meant to be, and it had never bothered Sora before. 

With a shout, wind surged around his feet in a miniature maelstrom and the pirates cried out, shielding their eyes and backing off. 

_ Not bad. _

He lifted his blade skywards and summoned a cacophony of lightning, singing metal and flesh. More cries as they dropped their blades, a bonus Sora hadn’t considered but took neatly in stride, finally jumping forwards and bringing his blade down hard on one of their heads.

Sora lost himself in the easy rhythm of battle, settling into a mien he wasn’t aware of, but when you’d been fighting for your life for the better part of two years now it was difficult to not form protective habits. 

His footwork was hampered by water and he was desperate to shuck his hot jacket, but there wasn’t a moment’s break to find a drier part of the deck to fight from, not to mention his treasure was still sitting there, innocuous ripe for the taking.

Sora crowed with laughter when one of the pirates slipped and landed flat on his back, ducking beneath a simultaneous swing and willy-nilly elbow aiming for his side. Geez, where  _ was  _ everyone else? They’d missed that! 

Time slowed infinitesimally the moment he glanced across the ship to look for them. He could feel the cold split of air as it approached, his smile dropping like a two ton anchor, eyes growing wide. Distantly, he heard  _ fuck!,  _ but his chest was arching as a sword pierced him from behind, tempered metal splitting sinew, muscle, sliding between his lungs to emerge with a gasp wrenched from his lips. It felt like a ruthless punch, and it was only when he saw the blade emerge that it clicked.

He remembered, in a hot dizzying flash like the sun was flaring bright before his eyes, the first time he’d been nicked by a blade. Sitting with his legs folded underneath him with his childhood heavy on his shoulders, sobbing as Donald hemmed and hawed and scolded, soft down-feather wings gliding over the wound and healing it, simple as that, Sora don’t be such a  _ baby  _ it’s not even going to scar. And it hadn’t, but the next one did, and the others after that, a patchwork quilt sewn by love and longing, words tucked hidden into the threads, quiet:  _ I looked everywhere for you. _

The memory was gone by the time he brokenly exhaled, time resuming, and he glanced down. 

The panic struck him quicker than the pain.

“What?” he managed, then the pain was spreading, searing, screaming at him this is unnatural this is wrong this is not supposed to be here what are you going to do you were stabbed  _ you were stabbed  _ you have a sword in you you’re bleeding it’s dripping down your chest it’s seeping from the cut it’s staining your shirt it’s pooling on your belt its saturating the jacket it’s on your hands.

As quickly as it speared him, the blade was tugged back, his chest concaving as it tried to follow, and Sora gasped wetly, like his breath had been wrenched out with it, bowing forward and his hair falling into his wide eyes.

There was the slick whisk of air and the splattering of his blood on the sea-water strewn deck. “Fucking finally got the bastard.”

_ No,  _ Sora thought, heart beating against his ribs with the inconsolable rage of a grieving lover, panic spreading like lightning to seize his breath, locking his knees even as he stumbled.  _ No, no, no, not like this, I can’t. _

Distantly he could hear the ocean roaring, heard something like a sound echoing down a long metal tunnel, and when the ship surged on a wave Sora stumbled forward, backward, trying to remain standing as his hands clumsily crept up his chest, fingers like claws, staining tanned skin with blood dark and rich. 

It slid between his fingers like an intimate grasp, curled around his wrist, was warm and tangible. Sora stared wide-eyed and unseeing, light headed. He felt almost beside himself, as if that wasn’t  _ him  _ but another being, a twin giddy with ecstasy. 

The ocean reached for him and Sora reached back, and he fell into the darkness head over heels, tumbling and dropping.

  
  


He landed slowly, buoyed and gently carried by the water, and as his feet touched stained glass, Sora realized he’d been here before. The experience always left him like a dream, but the familiarity was there. But, he frowned, a hand tentatively over his heart, something was wrong, different.

Sora’s heart station was bleeding.

No, he thought, staring down at the tide slowly rising. It was being covered in ocean water at midnight, with not even a sliver of moon to cast light. It crept from the center, bubbling up like a spring, running until the entire platform was covered in it, and higher, impossibly growing as a flood despite the outpour tumbling off the edges in waterfalls. It covered his shoes, his ankles, to his knees, and Sora was backing away with nowhere to go.

His back hit something, and slowly Sora turned around to find himself.

Black haired, golden eyed, grinning like he’d swallowed the sun, his other reached for him as Sora stood paralyzed by shock. It was Vanitas.

“You’re an  _ idiot,”  _ Vanitas said, like someone had dragged charcoal stained hands all across his voice. “I should just leave you there, but you wouldn’t learn a lesson, would you?” Ink in the shape of hands landed on his chest, and Sora was bewitched, transfixed, caught in a snake’s gaze. Those hands crept up his chest, thumbs catching on his necklace to drag it along, and they settled on either side of his throat, cupping it. “I’ll show you how it’s done and who knows?”

Vanitas stepped forward until they were touching, and the grin crept into a sneer. “If I feel like it, maybe I’ll even give it back.”

Sora cried out as Vanitas shoved him down and bled into him, merging. It felt like he’d been plunged into dark icy water, but the shock passed and the numbness was a blessing from the pain and panic. As he drifted, it shifted from unforgiving freezing water into the warmth of the island’s ocean, cradling Sora in comfort and protection. 

From his wound brilliant angry crimson burst forth in star streaks, looping over each other and plunging back in, again and again, each subsequent glistening thread smaller and tighter, until the wound was stitched tight back together, painless. 

Sora closed his eyes.

  
  


Riku felt the stab as if it was through himself, and he gasped. He dropped to his knees, back arching as the phantom blade slipped free, and he clapped his hand over his mouth to keep from being sick. He dug at his shirt over where he  _ knew  _ he’d been stabbed, knew he should be bleeding, but all he could feel was unstained cloth, knew the blunt of his nails was digging in too deep.

For a long horrible moment, it felt like his lungs had been punctured, like no matter how quickly he breathed there was no place for the air to go, no room, blood pooling over and flooding him, muscles screaming and burning and vision going hazy as a technicolor blast of fireworks bloomed in his vision, asphyxia gripping him in its throe as he hyperventilated.

Distantly, he heard Mickey’s panicked voice, and the dissonant waves the Realm of Darkness always sounded like, but Riku was submerged in pain and panic, finally gasping for breath as he felt his lungs work again. He was dizzy, as if the ground was rioting beneath him in outrage, and he could feel the dirt ingratiating itself into his skin as he braced his hands against the ground, trying to regain his breath.

_ Sora,  _ he thought, head heavy and lolling between his shoulders,  _ Sora’s hurt.  _

It was clear as day, hit him with the striking depth of a meteor that this was Sora’s pain. He didn’t know why he felt it, didn’t know what he should think about it, but he knew that though there was no wound on him, there was one on Sora.

Clean through the ribs, puncturing his chest and striking through mercilessly in its intent. Someone had hurt Sora, who had this very real wound. Riku felt bile climb up his throat, felt panic seize him. 

Mickey’s sudden gasp jerked him from his stupor though, and he glanced up with tear-glazed eyes to find him staring beyond Riku. Slowly, methodically, Riku turned as if through water.

Ghastly and reeking of shadows, there was  _ something. _

Riku gaped, watching as the nightmare slowly uncurled, standing straight with its shoulders thrown back and chin arrogantly tilted. Riku couldn’t read its expression, ink stained as it was, but the cocky indifference defined its shape. It tossed his hair, and Riku realized with sinking despair that it was  _ him.  _ Riku’s face, his body, his hands twisting up into the air to admire himself.

The nightmare’s mouth opened, but all Riku saw was poisonous purple bioluminescence, no sound to be heard as it mouthed words. Riku shook his head, gathering himself together as his mind raced trying to pierce together all the events in order.

Sora had been stabbed through the chest, and in the process there was a  _ nightmare  _ here, standing beside Riku as if it had every right to exist.

“What,” Riku choked out, voice raspy as if he really had sustained a blow, “what is this?”

Mickey seemed struck dumb, but his keyblade flashed into existence nonetheless, and the nightmare reacted like an animal, hunched shoulders and glowing eyes narrowing in disdain. It stunned Riku, that he could recognize every emotion, felt it as familiar as if he was living it,  _ knew  _ what the curve of its back and the downturn of its head meant as familiarly as he knew every one of his own personal nightmares, stuck reliving his mistakes.

“No,” Riku croaked, moving to shakily stand, one hand cupped over his chest as the phantom pain still twinged. “Don’t, I don’t, I—” he sucked in a breath. This wasn’t his first concern. It was  _ Sora,  _ stars knew where and  _ hurt.  _ “Mickey, I have to go back.” Heedless, Riku stumbled to turn around. He felt pale and shaky, ridden with a cold clammy sweat.

“What?” Mickey cried, hesitant as his gaze flickered between the two Riku’s. “You can’t, Riku!”

“You don’t understand!” Riku snapped, “Sora’s in danger! I felt it, I—” he coughed, and he realized the panic hadn’t been from the sudden pain, but from the very real knowledge that Sora had been mortally wounded, “he’s  _ hurt, _ and I’m not there.”

Unsaid was the guilt like anchors dragging him down to drown, that Riku was failing Sora again.

“But, this—” Mickey cut off, and Riku turned enough to see him gesturing towards the nightmare, who was still on the balls of its feet, prepared for battle and warily watching them.

“I can fix it later,” Riku said, doggedly walking onwards. Knowing this was intrinsic to him, was as native and inherent as feeling Sora’s pain was. He couldn’t describe or reason it, but Riku had resolved himself to follow his heart anyways. 

“We can’t leave it here!” Mickey said with frustration.

Scowling, Riku whirled in place to face him, and he knew he was too angry, knew there was too much scathing ire laced in his words, but he couldn’t control it. It overwhelmed him and undertook him like a riptide, ripping him away from the calm he’d wrestled control of in front of a translucent flower. “I don’t  _ care,  _ Mickey! Sora’s in danger and I have to go!”

But, as if it was reacting to Riku’s loss of control, the nightmare coiled and seethed, momentum wrapping tight before it launched forward toward Mickey. The King barely managed to parry the blow away and despite his desperate desire to go to Sora, Riku summoned his keyblade nonetheless. He couldn’t leave Mickey behind, no matter how much he ached to find to Sora.

Braveheart glistened with faint remains of spectral rays as Riku charged forward, and the nightmare spun around dizzyingly fast, no weapon in hand. Riku brought his blade down and the spectre caught it, hands grasping the blade even as the light caused tendrils of darkness to leak off it, rising towards the sky in a mockery of dance.

Hissing, the nightmare leapt away, backing off to prowl with a scowl. Mickey recovered, and Riku relentlessly moved to attack it, slamming the flat of his blade into the nightmare’s left side, where Riku knew the still-tender scar remained. The nightmare howled like static electricity, a screeching grating sound of pain that made Riku wince as it took the blow and was thrown aside.

“Riku?” Mickey asked, doubt in his voice.

“It’s a nightmare,” Riku managed to grit out, shaking the echoes of its pain off. “I don’t know how it got here, but we don’t have time to waste!” 

The Realm of Darkness undulated around them, moving with nowhere to go as always. Despite the sudden battle, no heartless had found them yet, and nothing about the realm itself had changed, cosmic darkness settling everywhere like dust on abandoned relics. There was always a dizzying feeling of something swollen, ready to burst with decay and infection, but never quite doing it. Always simultaneously hot but cold, nothing but everything, overwhelming but empty. Riku hated it here. Hated the loneliness of expectation, of hope. Hated the way it felt like darkness crawled over him like disease, staining him.

And this  _ nightmare  _ born of Sora’s pain was keeping Riku from him.

Ignoring Mickey, Riku chased the nightmare, leaping high to strike a blow from above. The creature snarled and tried to block it, but with no weapon and overwhelmed, it could only barely cross its arms in time. Riku didn’t break, simply slamming another hit into it, and it cried out.

It sounded so  _ human. _

Riku paused with his blade upheld, stricken, and it took advantage.

The nightmare shot into his stomach and Riku gasped, hitting the ground hard with the creature on him, claws raking down his chest and face and arms where Riku bucked. Mickey shouted again, but Riku couldn’t take his mind off the very real heavy weight of darkness pinning him down, chattering anger filling his ears while his skin tore open.

“E-nough!” Riku grabbed it, not caring how he got hurt in the process, and violently shoved it off, rolling over to reverse their position. He summoned Braveheart and without a flicker of hesitation this time, drove it home. 

There was a soft gasp, and the creature locked eyes with Riku. Sorrow, Riku saw. Despair. Pain.  _ Fear. _

It was  _ Sora’s  _ nightmare.

It dissipated into light that felt almost too blinding in the eternal monochrome dusk. Riku stayed there for a moment, collecting himself as he tried to catch his breath. He felt Mickey approach and murmur a spell to heal his wounds, but Riku’s mind was racing too fast for him to be entirely aware.

He’d dismissed becoming a dreameater for Sora’s sake, but if nightmares could be created where Riku was because of something happening to Sora, then… then what?

“Mickey,” Riku said, voice distant to his own ears, “we need to go back to the realm of light.”

Mickey sighed. “Even if I say no, you’ll go anyways, won’t you?”

Riku met his weary gazy with his own steely one. 

“Alright,” Mickey said, and Riku stood, not looking back at where the nightmare had cried, barely discernible among the shadows if Riku hadn’t gotten so close. Riku felt the darkness attempting to smother him as always, but Riku shrugged it off, hand fisting over his heart where he felt Sora’s absence like a visceral wound.

He had to find Sora.

  
  


Vanitas opened his eyes with a soft sigh, lashes fluttering apart.

Brilliant blue sky with a blinding sun was the first thing he saw, face tilted up and body arched into the air as he hovered, as if a string tied to his heart held him up with nimble fingers. He heard the surf rich in his ears, felt the sun warm on his skin, even the breeze tenderly caressing his hair, and it was enough to make his broken heart  _ ache  _ with want. Living in Sora’s shadow with everything filtered through by noise was nothing like  _ being,  _ feeling on his own.

Unceremoniously, he was dropped, and Vanitas landed with a heavy thud on his feet. He lowered his weight, eyes sun-blind and dancing between the vague shapes of his enemies surrounding him, adjusting to the roll of waves.

_ Stupid  _ Sora. Vanitas had seen the whole thing, the childish fervent want of pretty things, and the consequential mistake. What an amateur. Everyone knew better than to let yourself get surrounded. It was the first thing he’d learned, really, when he’d been torn apart from Ventus.

He stretched and curled his fingers in, rolling his neck, working kinks out in his new body as around him people shrieked, backing off. With a feral grin, he summoned a keyblade, wrinkling his nose when he realized it was Sora’s with one of those ridiculous keychains he liked to use. Whatever. It’d still work.

Swinging it to test its weight, Vanitas leapt up, darkness pulsing and flaring out from him as time was displaced momentarily and he shot back into light mere feet away from his first opponent.

It was disgustingly easy, really. They were all terrified and that fear made them clumsy, where it made Vanitas strong.

Best of all, he didn’t  _ feel  _ anything. No pain, no wretched unversed, nothing ripping itself from his body, no disgusting purging —  _ nothing.  _ He was  _ free,  _ he was  _ alright,  _ and it was a feeling he couldn’t even recall, couldn’t seem to even recognize, being so light it felt like he was floating, and he felt that bubbly airiness rise and grow until he laughed with something that felt like the sun on his face. It felt like flying, like when he rode a tidal wave of keyblades that warped and twisted and he felt giddy with exhilaration, free of pain for a long blissful moment. 

Heady on joy, he couldn’t bring himself to care when the dumb duck or dog began to squabble and shout, or when all his enemies began to peter out. It was an intoxicating rush of power, phasing in and out of existence, slashing with claws and blade and wrapping himself up in pure strength and adrenaline. He could go on forever. He could even fly. 

He ignored when  _ he  _ woke up, the quiet cry, the horrified gasping. It was easy to drown it out in grunts and attacks and ocean surf so loud it was if like Vanitas was drowning in it.

When all his enemies were laid out, Vanitas touched back on the ground, chest heaving, bringing his hands to his chest and grinning wide as he could. There wasn’t a single wound. He’d fixed Sora, bled and broke to replace the bits Sora had missing, and that was  _ good.  _ Vanitas couldn’t have Sora dying yet, not when Vanitas had finally found a quiet sanctuary to heal. He’d do what Ventus had, would use Sora up and make himself whole, and in the meanwhile he’d defend this with vicious tenacity. 

The darkness in Sora was  _ his  _ now, and no one was going to take it from him, not death and sure as hell not Xehanort.

_ “Ahh,” _ he said, fingers draving rivulets in Sora’s clothes, pressing in to feel skin and muscle and that rioting heartbeat. His hair was curling close to his skin with sweat and the humid sea air was thick enough to choke on, but he wanted more of it, wanted to devour it, the wait was so long and he was  _ here  _ in a body he’d always wanted. He wanted to  _ take  _ it all from Sora, wanted to swallow all of him whole, wondered if maybe this was a shortcut.

But, from far away, as if begging to come back, Vanitas could hear him.

_ Vanitas, no!  _ Sora begged, and there was the queerest sensation of hands pushing back where he held his on his chest, as if Sora was hovering just beneath.  _ Give it back! _

“After I just saved you?” Vanitas asked, grinning, still breathless. “Show some  _ gratitude!”  _ Mockery rose like steam, rich as he rolled the words around his mouth, tongue curling as if around a delicious bite. He closed his eyes, relishing the moment. Sora didn’t understand what it was like, to live in a broken body.

_ I’m plenty grateful,  _ Sora growled, anger licking around the edges of his words,  _ now give it back! It’s not yours! _

“I wonder,” Vanitas hummed, dropping his hands and opening his eyes, taking in the endless blue horizon, tilting his head to accept the balmy breeze. “Doesn’t seem like there’s a good reason to.”

_ Vanitas! _

He stepped forward over the blood and water, strolling towards the far end, so he could maybe see further. Walking on a ship was a funny sensation, his gut roiling, making his steps heavier, splashing through tinged water, but he relished the feeling. 

_ Don’t make me drag you back down,  _ Sora hissed, and if Vanitas closed his eyes he could almost see him, indignant anger twisting his features, star-struck blue eyes flashing like lightning. That was good. That was familiar. Sora had his darkness all on his own, and Vanitas thrived on it.

“I’d love to see you try,” Vanitas sneered. Behind him the duck and dog were talking, but Vanitas didn’t pay them any mind. They wouldn’t hurt him, not while he had Sora’s body. 

He’d barely started to crest the creaking wooden stairs when he felt the shift of darkness behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and found a portal swirling into place, elongating until Riku’s furious green gaze locked onto Vanitas’.

Instead of instantly going on guard though, Riku collapsed behind the eyes. 

Riku stumbled out of the portal, face stricken as he nearly tripped over his own feet rushing forward, not even glancing at their surroundings. Vanitas turned fully around, tensing as Riku ran. 

“Sora!” Riku cried, and oh, what  _ perfect  _ vulnerability there was. It was so easy to see. So simple to break.

_ Riku!  _ Sora said, pressing back close against the thin line severing them. 

Riku nearly barreled into him but Vanitas reacted quicker, throwing his keyblade out between them and stopping Riku in his tracks at the bottom of the rickety stairs. Riku’s shoulders were heaving, eyes darting from the blade to Vanitas and back, confusion as plain as day on the idiot’s face.

“Some guardian,” Vanitas sniffed, slowly shifting in place. “Can’t even recognize when his own  _ friend,”  _ he sneered, “is taking a backseat.”

Riku’s eyes grew wide, breathing shallow, and then something unexpected happened.

_ No,  _ Sora seethed, conviction staggering Vanitas,  _ you don’t mess with Riku.  _

“Or what?” Vanitas laughed, deep and amused, ignoring the flash of confusion on Riku’s face. “What’re you gonna do, cry about it?” Ignoring Sora’s baseless confidence, Vanitas tilted his head, looking down at Riku. “And what about you, hero, are you just going to stand there with your mouth open or are you going to do something?”

“You,” Riku scowled, gathering himself quicker than Vanitas had given him credit for, “who are you?” He hesitated, then continued, “Roxas?”

Vanitas rolled his eyes, “Wrong, I’m not so desperate for friends.”

Riku’s brow furrowed. “....Ventus?”

Vanitas scoffed, “Try again, or have you run out of guesses?”

Riku summoned his blade and in a flash of light slammed it against Vanitas’ with a weight Vanitas almost couldn’t bear, and there was no hesitance here like Sora’s other friends, no quarry. Vanitas struggled against the sudden attack, anchoring himself against it as Riku bore down, that earlier fury returning with a vengeance.

“Who are you?” Riku demanded, silver hair falling into his eyes, sun catching on strands with glimmering light, “and what did you do with Sora?” Vanitas could see the darkness coiling tight in Riku, could feel the way it used to consume him. Now  _ that  _ was interesting. A guardian of light with a penchant for darkness?

“He’s  _ fine,”  _ Vanitas pushed back, the advantage of height on his side though Riku was nearly level with him anyways,  _ “I  _ saved him!”

Riku faltered, and Vanitas shoved him off. All the euphoria from earlier had neatly and quickly drained, leaving him with his constant irritation. “You think you came in time? Think you could’ve healed him with your shitty spells? No,  _ I  _ did,” he possessively splayed his hand over where the wound had been, saw Riku’s eyes flicker to it than back to Vanitas’. His own hand jerked up in a half aborted move. 

“I came as fast as I could!” Riku protested, and Vanitas grinned. There it was. That vulnerable note, the place where he could strike the hardest. Regret, fear, guilt — it reeked off Riku in almost palpable waves. 

_ Leave him alone! _

Vanitas spoke over Sora. “You didn’t do shit. You weren’t here. Sora would’ve died without me, and yet you think you’re got some right here?” 

Riku reared back, and as if it suddenly occurred to him he whirled around, finally noticing the carnage Vanitas had left behind.

“That’s right,” Vanitas crooned, catching Riku’s attention again, “a sword through the chest. Right here,” he tapped the spot, a hideous joy taking hold of him when Riku flinched. “Bled all over, pretty sure that big splatter is his.” He gestured off-hand to the spot he’d awoken, and Riku’s face grew pale.

“I felt it,” he whispered, hands shaking, “felt him die.”

“Ah-ah,” Vanitas shook his head, leering in satisfaction, “he never died. I got to him before he could.”

Riku seemed to struggle with that, mouth working, but eventually he exhaled sharply, panic dying away to somewhere hidden, but not undone. “And? Who’re  _ you?” _ Riku reading his blade in one hand, obviously intending to still strike. Vanitas could almost admire how quickly he regained his composure. Vanitas reciprocated, one hand holding his blade aloft as his other cradled his heart.

“I am Vanitas, a part of Sora,” he said, pride and fierce determination bleeding through his stance and words. The piece taken away, and the piece needed to be whole — the same. “I’m the one who’s kept him alive this entire time.”

“Vanitas,” Riku said, tasting the name. He scowled, all that pretty desperation wrapped up tight beneath his anger. “What do you want? If you’re just  _ keeping him alive  _ then haven’t you done your job?”

“My job?” Vanitas sneered. “I’m not doing this because I’m like  _ you,”  _ and that word dripped with disdain, made Riku flinch and Sora hiss, “one day I’ll rip him apart and be my own person, just like Ventus.”

_ Huh? _

“I’ll be whole, and that’s all I want,” nevermind fixing Sora and stitching his heart up nice and neat;  _ nevermind  _ breaking off bits of his own to match into the spots taken away, “but maybe I’ll just take this for a ride. It fits like a glove.” He grinned, a little amused at his own joke.

_ I won’t let you. _

“Not on my watch,” Riku said. Vanitas watched as he settled into a mien, fully prepared to hurt Sora if needed. It took Vanitas slightly aback that Riku would go so far, but he figured that to Riku, bits of salvageable Sora was better than no Sora at all. Or maybe he was really just that confident he could somehow beat Vanitas. 

“Come at me,” Vanitas grinned, and that triumphant euphoria rose like a tidal wave, made his blood sing with anticipation at clashing with light again. 

But he’d underestimated Sora.

_ I said no! _ Sora hissed, and Vanitas gasped as hands shot towards his neck from behind, nails digging into the soft flesh of his jugular and wrenching back.

Vanitas dropped, a desperate  _ no!  _ following his descent as the Caribbean blurred around him and became obfuscated by hazy depths and drifting bubbles. But he couldn’t fight the stranglehold Sora had on him, let alone twist and claw his way free as Sora pulled him down.

Sora used him as an anchor, coming around, and with both hands still around Vanitas’ neck but no longer tight, Sora shoved him down. Vanitas’ back hit Sora’s heart station gently, as if settling on the ocean floor, and he blinked dazed eyes to find Sora’s staring at him solemnly, all that rage bleeding away to leave behind something infuriatingly unreadable.

“Fuck!” Vanitas hissed, collapsing against the stained glass. “I was so close, too.”

“No, no you weren’t,” Sora said with a frown, shaking his head and brown strands dancing where they dripped from his face. Sora was hovering over him, hands drawing away, leaving Vanitas cold and alone. “Just like I never noticed you, you could’ve kept me asleep. Could’ve left me…”

_ Broken,  _ hung between them.

Vanitas scoffed, glaring away into the eternal darkness lit by Sora’s heart. “Ha! You think I’m  _ soft?  _ Get real.”

“Look at who’s winning,” Sora said back, and Vanitas stiffened, realizing just how much he’d revealed with that alone. Slowly, Sora stood, and Vanitas closed his eyes, resigned. He really couldn’t have taken Sora’s body despite his bravado. His heart was still too mangled, clinging to bits and shards with dripping despair. But, somehow, like a fool, he’d dreamed.

As he sank backwards into the place he slept, he heard Sora whisper, “But if I could help Ven like you said, maybe I could help you, too.”

Vanitas cast a furious golden glare towards Sora, but it hid the tremulous way those words struck him. Sora stared back, blue eyes backlit with the natural light of his heart. Instead of replying and baring any more of himself, he let the darkness swallow him whole. 

Distantly, he was aware of Sora coming back, of him throwing his arms wide around Riku’s shoulders with profuse apologies, of the duck and dog and a mouse, but they filtered to him as if like dreams. He’d been here as long as Ventus had been, after all, and he’d dreamed of Sora’s life on and on. It’d only been recently, as the darkness grew within Sora and he’d called on it more and more, that Vanitas had felt himself rise to the surface, stuck just beyond the glassy mirror of the other side.

One day, he’d be free. And who knows?

Maybe he’d even be in the mood to return the favor.

**Author's Note:**

> twitter | _oathbreaker
> 
> Rouwan did an absolutely stunning and breath-taking adaptation over on twitter, please give it a look and some kind words!! Thank you so much Mim ♥
>
>> <<And Death is No Parenthesis>>  
>   
> My adaptation of [@_oathbreaker](https://twitter.com/_oathbreaker?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw) s work! [pic.twitter.com/CLQyKlwQwK](https://t.co/CLQyKlwQwK)
>> 
>> — ✄肉丸 (@rouwan) [September 9, 2019](https://twitter.com/rouwan/status/1170938854473289728?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw)
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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